I'm not going to bore you with "say something nice," because I can't.
I wanted to. I wanted to find something to hang a hat on to be magnanimous. I wanted to think about his wife and kids.
And then I thought, "Shirley Sherrod had a family. A family she worked hard to support at a job that paid a decent wage and offered nice benefits to make up for the fact that she was not allowed to ask for a raise or more vacation or any of the countless hundreds of things people in the private sector can get."
And then I got mad. And madder. Fuck him, and fuck his wife, who supported and enabled him to become a cartoon character to the world who showed no one, NO ONE, he disagreed with an ounce of sympathy, concern or compassion.
She's Orson Bean's daughter, fer crissake. She could easily afford to move out and divorce the creep, but chose to remain and, more important, not intervene when Andy decided he wanted to draw another cartoon.
Breitbart asked for no sympathy in life and gave none. It is only fitting, then, that I show nothing but contempt for him, his family and the slope-shouldered morons who are "shedding a tear" for a man who tore up his life too soon because he couldn't be bothered to listen to the first rules of kindergarten: Play nice, and share.
It's one thing to be a selfish, pompous asshole who's first and only thought is himself. As one myself, I'm cool with that, But when you start extending discharity and contumely to people who are less fortunate than you, you don't deserve accolades and eulogies but contempt and condemnation.
You know who I do feel compassion and sympathy for? Keith Olbermann, who still had a slew of Breitbart send-ups tucked away on a hard drive at the Current Studios, who will now never get the chance to show them and make us laugh with him at Breitbart. That's who.
Breitbart is dead. Hell just got a lot nastier.